304 pages,
Walker Books, ISBN-13: 978-0802713957
Perhaps
the most famous fresco in the world is the Sistine Chapel Ceiling by Michelangelo
di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni (or just Michelangelo to you and me), a cornerstone
of High Renaissance art, but as any reader of Irving Stone’s 1961 novel The Agony and the Ecstasy (or any viewer
of the 1965 film adaptation of the same) will know, Michelangelo considered
himself a sculptor above all else and had no desire to paint this ceiling; in
fact, as Ross King makes clear in Michelangelo
and the Pope’s Ceiling, the artist only consented to the command of Pope
Julius II to paint the ceiling as a stepping stone to get back to the project
he really desired: the sculpting of Julius’s tomb (a tomb that was never even
begun, much less completed).
Michelangelo’s
artistic achievements were great, wide and varied, but by focusing on this
single, famous project that occupied better than three years of his life, King
is able to give us a living portrait of this genius: we get to see his
petulance and penny-pinching, as well as his fantastic work; we get to see his
fights with family, assistants and pope, as well as his tireless work to better
his family and amaze his observers; we get to see a man more like us with his
cares and worries, as well as his triumphs. It is a story told with a plethora
of detail...arguably, too much
detail, as every artist and every assistant artist (and many of their relatives
and patrons) are given, along with their towns and some of their history, often
with little relevance to the story of the ceiling. This is a lot to wade
through and is more than is necessary, I think.
There
is also a fair amount of repetition, as well, as when we are told (three times at
least) that, contrary to the (supposed) popular belief, Michelangelo was not a
single man lying on his back, covered in paint working on his masterpiece, but
was rather leading a team of assistants of varying competence, standing on his
specially designed-and-constructed platform with head tilted back to paint the ceiling.
Some details are, however, truly enlightening, as when we learn that, rather
than a flawless work created as a single outpouring of genius, the ceiling of
the Sistine Chapel was made by a man who made mistakes and tried to fix them,
who learned from (as well as inspired) other artists, and whose work improved
as he worked and mastered the skills of fresco.
Arguably,
the person who has the most developed and interesting character is not the
artist but the man who commissioned him, Pope Julius II, “il papa terribilea”, perhaps
the most domineering, vain and aggressive man ever to wear the Papal
triple-crown (and that’s saying something), who was perhaps more interested in
the power struggles among the Vatican and the Italian city-states (and against
France) in the 16th Century than in the finer points of the Catholic
faith. We never get a definitive idea of how Michelangelo himself felt about
Julius (though in balance it seems rather negative) and we also don’t get much
info on Michelangelo’s attitude toward religion, though it is suggested that he
was a believer (with little supporting evidence).
Battling
against ill health, financial difficulties, domestic problems, inadequate
knowledge of the art of fresco, and the pope’s impatience, Michelangelo created
figures, depicting the Creation, the Fall, and the Flood, so beautiful that,
when they were unveiled in 1512, they stunned his onlookers. Modern anatomy has
yet to find names for some of the muscles on his nudes, they are painted in
such detail. While he worked, Rome teemed around him, its politics and
rivalries with other city-states and with France at fever pitch, often
intruding on his work. From Michelangelo’s experiments with the composition of
pigment and plaster to his bitter competition with the famed painter Raphael,
who was working on the neighboring Papal Apartments, Michelangelo and the Pope’s Ceiling presents a magnificent tapestry
of day-to-day life on the ingenious Sistine scaffolding and outside in the
upheaval of early-16th Century Rome.
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